


The Pegging of Wrench: Two Parts

by FancyLadySnackCakes



Series: LowRes [12]
Category: Watch Dogs (Video Games)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, BDSM, Bondage, Cock Rings, Exhibitionism, F/M, Nerds in Love, Oral Sex, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Overstimulation, Pegging, Prostate Massage, Prostate Milking, Public Blow Jobs, Two Parter, alleyway bjs, perverted hackers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-23
Updated: 2018-04-23
Packaged: 2019-01-22 02:41:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 16,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12471656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FancyLadySnackCakes/pseuds/FancyLadySnackCakes
Summary: Anonymous #1 asked: Could you write another Wrench x LowRes where they get real kinky and creative~?Anonymous #2 asked: I really enjoy your fanfics, both Lucas and Wrench ones, but especially Wrench would probably work perfectly here~ So I would like to ask for one: don't underestimate a girl in a pretty dress, as she can be cunning & cute, calculative & clever at the same time, but so many layers hide kinky kinks, collars, canes, cages, on a sweet sub. Suprise me! (Wanted to go with alliteration, but couldn't keep up that, now I'm sad).Anonymous #3 asked: Is there a possibility of having a submissive Wrench chapter of your Lowres seriesA/N: A couple other people showed interest in Wrench getting pegged so I have written it. This is a two-parter so make sure to subscribe!See tags for warnings. <3





	1. Part One: The Milking

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Anonymous](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anonymous/gifts).



**On the road somewhere in Oakland…**

Wrench was sitting in a kiddie-fondler type van - one with a single tinted window in the back and nothing else to show any passersby the bulk of what was in the vehicle - when he finished hacking into LowRes’ laptop. The diesel-powered warhorse was perfect for absconding with all manner of illicit supplies, drugs, and weaponry and ya know… stock from a seedy sex shop in Oakland? Stuff to create the best and most fucked up porn-inspired night of all time to end all times! Porn-pocalyptic mayhem! Just thinking about it was making his fingers fuckup on the input. 

Low’s webcam popped up in the lower corner of his laptop, her face was heavy with sleep, but the lip of her yellow coffee mug was hovering beside her stomach. Wrench licked his lips behind the mask, knowing for sure the display was honking hearts or stars at the very least. She probably knew he was- 

Yeah. LowRes eyed the corner of her screen, glaring almost comically in confusion before realization dawned on her, and the eye roll that followed was enough for Wrench to tap his heels and snort with glee. Part of the joy in spying on her was that it didn't take long for her to realize it. The fact that she didn't bother kicking him out got his dick a wee-bit stiff. 

She was a hacker’s wet fucking dream. Wrench's wet dream and adorable sugar muffin all in one. 

Perf! 

LowRes was absolute PERFECTION!

Marcus drove down one of the back roads through West Oakland, passing some wood burnt skallywag-frame leftover from the weed fire they'd set months ago with the rest of DedSec’s help. Drug dealers could go get fucked by a porcupine on meth - like a really huge one with spikes on its monster dong. 

“Maaann… you aren't spying on homegirl again are ya?” Marcus asked, eying the laptop propped up on Wrench’s lap as if he didn't already know the answer to that question. 

Wrench looked at him with a side glare - underscores - and tapped the maximize command to get a bigger view of his sleepy acorn, “Dude, it's like one of our unspoken rules of engagement. Trust me, she knows. If anything it's exhibitionism ‘and’ voyeurism - which is super up my alley.”

“Yeah, well, make sure she knows we're sharing breathing space, 'aight? Something's you just can't unhear.”

“Or see!” Wrench sings off-key, grinning in double-carets before finishing the prompt in the lower right-hand corner, copy-pasting the URL and fluttering his fingers before hitting send. 

‘What the-’ comes Low’s sweet, tired voice. 

Her face opens in shock just as the audio from the video Wrench threw up on her screen kicks in. He chuckles as her coffee mug wobbles, spilling a lip of milky caffeine over her lap as her cheeks blossom with pink blotches. 

“She’s gonna ruin you,” Marcus interjects as LowRes growls through Wrench’s speakers. She sounds so hot, especially with fuck sounds underneath her sounds of rage.

‘Wrench! You fucker. I'm gonna glue your dick to your stomach - turn this shit off. Josh is gonna think I'm insane.’

With her cheeks flushed red, Wrench watches her eyes dart between the video playing on her laptop and the exit button. She's too smart to leave it playing for very long, but he takes great pride in knowing it takes her a few moments longer to kill his hack because she likes what she sees. He can see it in her eyes and the way she subconsciously licks her lower lip. 

Oh, yea’uh!

After ripping out his kernel hack, she inputs a string of code, flips him the bird in a very Wrench-like manner and shuts him out of her system just like that. His screen goes black, and a laughing Rat Fink with pixelated sweat droplets pop in its place.

Worth it, Wrench thinks, tugging out his phone to send her a quick text while Marcus just hums in disapproval and shakes his head. His compatriot takes a turn down the interstate to Frisco as Wrench hits send. 

‘Whatcha think?’

Ellipses pop up immediately, and six seconds later her reply literally makes his balls get all warm and tingly. 

‘I think you need to work on your communication skills before I make you cry just like crew-cut was in that video. I thought you said you weren’t into that sorta thing?’

‘If I was, would you help me unload some props I may or may not have stolen from that shop with the sharpie blowup doll in the display window?’

LowRes takes two minutes to reply, ‘The sex shop? Shit, dude. Fine. Don't cream your jeans in excitement before you get here.’ She adds a quick ‘I love you’ and a heart emoji at the end. 

‘No promises. Love you too.’ Is his predictable reply, but Wrench doesn't mind when it comes to her.

Beside him, Marcus offers with a hopeful expression, “Whatever you're planning, maybe rent a hotel room this time or somethin'. B3ta’s been leaving Sitara voicemails about noise complaints and... somethin’ bout a used condom under his pillow?”

Wrench throws his head back and goes full-on hyena-laugh.

“Yo, that’s nasty,” Marcus says, making a face but Wrench can see the grimace twist into a grin. 

“Maaaaah’n! That guy can go get fucked!” Wrench grumbles, kicking his heels up on the dash as he clicks his laptop shut, chewing on the inside of his cheek in thought. 

Just because someone had a crush on LowRes and had to listen to the fuck-tastic noises she made without being the one to make them happen, didn't mean it was Wrench’s problem. Plus… as ‘He-man Woman Hater’s Club’ as it was, Wrench got off on the guy being jealous of him. 

Low was cute as fuck, nerdy as fuck and smart and for whatever reason, loved him and Wrench being Wrench liked the reminder when other dudes were undoubtedly trying to work out why someone like her would be into someone like him. 

Getting to bang her in a bed - in a place where they could toss all their shit and have a little cubby hole of privacy - was excellent. Holding her cheeks against some soft pillows while the bed sprung under his thrusts? Amazing. Wrestling without worrying about knocking over anyone’s precious crap? An added bonus. Knowing that B3ta was outside having to listen to it all? Even fucking better. 

Naw, B3ta was just gonna have to face facts and deal with it like a big boy. LowRes was all about the Wrench.

B3ta, with his stupid face, dreadlocks, and hipster quote shirts didn’t stand a chance.

Wrench kicks his heels to Marcus’ funky fresh coming out of the radio and grins behind the spikes. Tonight was going to be glorious no matter which way the wind blew…

 

**At the HQ...**

After setting up an overly complicated peerblock and about four digital layers of firewall protection to keep Wrench and his eyes out of your machine, you put a sticker over your webcam just to be on the safe side. 

After grabbing a travel-size bottle of lube off the Wrench Bench, you shuffle yourself and your laptop into the bathroom, lock the door and throw the shower on; masking any noise you may or may not make. 

Josh was cool - he wouldn’t say anything about what you chose to Nudle search but still… looking at more videos like the one Wrench sent you wasn’t easy to explain, and you couldn’t ignore the threat of someone looking over your shoulder to see the sort of porn you were about to check out.

You can envision Josh sitting down beside you, staring at the videos and groaning with confusion, ‘Oh, hey dude… yes, that’s right. I’m looking at guys getting fucked in the ass by dominant chicks with strapons and-’

“Ouch,” you wince as the playback picks up in the middle of the action. The video breaks your train of thought as a rubber dildo slips inside the tight ring of some skinny guys ass, much to his apparent pain and satisfaction. 

You’re not sure you could do that without hurting Wrench, but the other stuff with the finger and the sweet blowjobs you’ve been threatening him with? Yeah, you could totally do that. 

There was even that new box of black latex gloves sitting by the three-D printer that Sitara bought, or got for free. It’s hard to tell with her because everyone tends to owe her favors one way or another, but the bulk shipment of gloves that arrived last week was going to take a lifetime to get through… unless everyone got really, really creative.

Above you, past the shower sounds, the hackerspace door slides open, and someone comes waltzing down the stairs. The footfalls are too precise to be the chaotic stomping of Wrench’s chucks, so you ignore it.

“... alright, let’s figure this shit out for the masked weirdo,” you mutter to yourself, fingering your headphones over your ears and get comfy on the covered toilet seat. 

Your laptop buffers for a moment, skipping ahead a few seconds to the skinny dude being bent over and - hips held in the bare-breasted chicks hands - takes the full length of the strap-on. 

It’s hot, there’s no denying that, but the best part is the sounds this guy makes…

After double checking that your headphones are correctly inserted, and no sound is spilling out unbeknownst to you, you dial up the volume and bite your lower lip. Wrench has sounded close to that mindless before… but not quite.

Staggered male grunts tumble out of the soft rubber cups around your ears. 

You gulp as the guy starts to cry for more.

The sounds are so vulnerable and guttural. It’s a whole different level of pleasure. 

You decide quite quickly that you want to make Wrench sound like that - make him squirm like this. Skinny dude buries his face in his folded arms, sobs and starts begging for it all the harder and you sit there, face pounding, and watch with pulses of pleasure snapping in your stomach.

“Holy… fucking shit,” you breathe, staring and listening and wondering if you can get away with rubbing one out before Wrench get’s back - if you can ignore the fact that Josh it outside rehashing code; unaware or assuming you're merely taking a shower. It makes you blush, but what you’re seeing is way too hot, and the light puffs of steam coming from behind the gritty shower curtain don't help any. It feels like you're smothered in an Amazon rainforest of sexual tension. 

Fuck it, you think, standing on shaky knees. With a light quiver, you remove your shorts and underwear, balling them up in the paint-stained sink and brace a knee on the covered toilet. Your heel skids several inches on the floor as you squeeze a couple drops of Wrench's lube over your digits and press two fingers to your clit. It’s been awhile since you’ve masturbated… a long while and that may have as much to do with your own laziness as it does Wrench’s 'skillz.' 

“Ugh,” you groan, hearing his voice - all smug robot - joking about his epic sex skills while you watch skinny dude and his bare-boobed lady have a noisy time on a nasty looking sofa. 

The guy shivers on your screen, reaching for a pillow at the end of the couch with twitchy fingers. You can see the way his spine bows as the girl grabs his hips and starts smacking her own into his ass so hard the sound nearly overshadows his wailing moans. Super hot, like… scary hot...

The bulb of your clit is swollen and tender, making dull but resounding pleasure fuzz your lower body. While this position would usually be a big NOPE if you’re goal was to cum, right now everything is so sensitive, and your fingers know exactly where to go. It’s refreshing. Sorta overindulgent...

Despite wanting to draw it out, you bend over, brace a hand on the sink and swirl your clit faster. 

Bare-boob girl calls her guy ‘a greedy bitch,’ and while you’re not into that shit at all, it’s also scorchingly hot… especially when she reaches underneath skinny dude’s stomach, grips his cock and starts jerking him off. It looks like he’s already cum once because while he's stiff, his cock is also sloppy and cherry red.

Under your breath you pant, tapping the hood of your clit with your middle finger, making little bursts of bliss pop in your stomach. Wrench would probably have something smartassed to say unless you were fucking him extra good, in which case he’d let everyone in a five-mile radius know what was happening. Dude was not subtle, but the idea of everyone in the Valley house knowing he was getting pegged and loving it is enough to make your heel skid on the sweaty tile just that little bit more.

“... shit,” you breathe, emitting a soft whimper that's muffled by the shower.

Imagining Wrench’s hard stomach fluttering as you fuck him in the ass while simultaneously stroking his fat dick - maybe tugging on the piercing under the head just to hear him choke - you press two fingers over your stiff clit and give it a few fast-timed circles. Pleasure bursts, making your thighs tremble.

You slow down, stroke your folds gently as fuck sounds ooze out of your headphones and rush back into a whirling motion between your thighs; clit popping under each swipe.

When you’re coming, breathing heavily through the most intense wave and shiver, the hazy image of Wrench’s bare face - contorted in painful bliss - makes you smile. The high lingers, leaving you soaked in humid sweat and shower steam with a supreme dose of endorphins that feels juuuuuh'st right. There was something so gratifying and necessary about giving yourself a good orgasm once in awhile that you almost feel guilty for not making it a weekly affair.

You snicker, laying your palm over the pulsating flesh of your cunt and grin as the couple in the video exchange dirty talk, interspersed with mutually breathless laughter while they fuck.

“Wrench… you’re so boned, dude.”

After deleting your Nudle history, putting your clothes back on and removing the cam sticker - just in case Wrench thinks he can crack your security next time - you step outside the bathroom and lock eyes with Sitara. She’s smirking with those perfect lipstick-lined lips, leaning against her chugging Epson printer. Her thumbs nails are tapping on her phone screen at a blurry pace. 

She watches you like a secret ops honeypot agent that knows all about what seedy shit you were up to in the bathroom.

“You know Josh has his headphones on. You could have spared the water bill a few bucks.”

Yup, she knows fucking everything, although coming out of the steamy bathroom without wet hair sorta says it all.

You make a face that’s both a smile and a grimace - that lip twist when you’re faced with a ‘blah’ but also ‘ugh’ realization but don’t want to be a pussy about it. Sitara laughs, and you scoff despite your embarrassment at getting caught post masturbation. 

Thankfully, you're quick with a good comeback. 

“Like we pay a water bill,” you muse, realizing it's not a great comeback... only after it's crossed your lips.

Despite the orgasm shakes making you a little self-conscious, you throw your laptop on the sofa and kick your feet towards her until you’re both cracking wise over her new designs. A big orange ring pop on a zombie's hand with a fly immortalized in the amber-like screen printing is badass. A dozen more single outlined letters and phrases are set to print once it’s done and somehow you get roped into helping her cut them out. Like you have anything else to do while you wait for Wrench to get his eager ass back to HQ… and also, you love bullshitting with Sitara, so it’s a win-win.

You could do without her terrible music though...

“-weird with Marcus lately?” She asks out of the blue; garbled by her loud thug pop music and the ‘hurk-hurk’ of the printer behind her. 

You make a quick noise for her to repeat herself. Something about Marcus? Being… weird? Since when was he anything but cucumber-cool?

She shrugs a shoulder - the knit sleeve of her sweater sliding off the caramel edge, “He’s been… I dunno, acting strange and I was worried Ray was doing somethin' shady - or shadier than usual. Maybe Wrench said something to you about it?”

You shrug both shoulders, curling the uber sharp fabric scissors around the soft curve of a big ‘D’ and try to think of anything outside the norm you’ve noticed lately. Aside from being hungover a few more times than usual in the past month, you can’t think of anything.

“Not that I can remember,” you tell her, but pause when the air shifts; feeling like the temperature just dropped. 

Sitara looks… upset, sort of. She’s not wearing her usual pissed off expression when she’s not smirking or laughing or scheming. Nope, this is definitely a more melancholy type of cover, and you can’t remember the last time she looked like this except when she thought her Cousin had been kidnapped by those internet stalkers. This is high-level stability malfunction type not-good. 

“Wait. Has he been weird with you?” You ask, putting the scissors down and edging closer while she taps her nails on the half-finished ring pop in her lap. 

“No... fuck no, it’s nothing like that,” Sitara says, blushing. 

“Hold the fucking phone,” you narrow your eyes and roll up on your knees, crawling right up against the fruity smelling parkour Amazonian and push your nose right up against her hot cheek. 

“We have a code red,” you mutter half-seriously against her until her cheek tenses against your nose in a grin, “you’re blushing.”

“You’re so full of it,” she laughs; husky and definitely hiding something. 

Lucky for her the door above the stairs ‘swishes,’ entering Wrench and Marcus on the tail end of a conversation. You think you hear them mention something about Alcatraz and how many exits are on each floor, which sounds promising but once Wrench whistles your brain is on high alert.

He throws his feet, soft chuck-soles smacking the stairs along with Marcus’ heavy steps. The guys catch you and Sitara in a weird position - you on your hands and knees, back half turned to them and Sitara sitting with her legs spread around you. It probably looks like you're making out if you think about it. Which means Wrench is gonna start- 

“Woah,” his electric outcry squeals shock/amusement. Maybe a bit of uncertainty too if the pause between his next words is anything to go off of. “I thought we agreed I’d get to choose the ‘three’s company’ third wheel? Sitara isn’t equipped to handle all the white chocolate you see before you.”

You lean back on your heels, only half noticing the way Sitara sighs in relief, and throw Wrench a warm smile with an eye roll. He’s sweeping his hands up and down his body in a 'look-at-this-awesomeness' gesture, flashing between underscores, question marks, and double-carets of joy. 

Marcus sucks his teeth as if he’s about to witness a murder.

Yeah, you can imagine it’d be hard for anyone but you to handle all that is ‘The Wrench’ and the glitter explosions and high-octane everything else that comes with him. He makes up for your introverted nature tenfold, and it’s hard to fake glare at him right now when all you wanna do is pounce the anarchist and fuck him in up the ass like he seemingly desires.

Sitara chortles and Wrench makes these adorable hums like he’s asking ‘what do you think, pumpkin?’ and it’s charming enough you decide you’ll go easy on him.

“Don't give everyone the wrong impression,” you warn him with a tiny smirk, “we never talked about that. Ever.”

“Did tooooo,” he spreads his feet shoulder-width apart, crosses his arms until the muscles and tendons bulge under the stark black tats and aims a pointer finger at you, “We were in that hot air balloon, eating corndogs with ice cream and you were wearing that dress during the Jackoffskey shitshow, and then you got down on your-“

“Wrench!” you blurt and swallow a nervous and slightly horny lump, blushing a shade deeper than Sitara was a moment ago, “... dude, you dreamt that last week. Shush it.”

He gives you a tilde-caret wink, proof he’s trying to get a rise out of you, and you rub at a hot cheek just like he wants. 

"... ugh," you grumble, "just show me where the boxes are, you douche.”

“Told you,” Marcus drops in, spreading his hands at his sides and twisting away when Wrench throws a playful jab in his direction, “home girl’s only gonna take so much before she snaps. Privacy, Wrench. Ya might wanna try it sometime.”

Wrench just laughs, turning his fist into a middle finger as you give Sitara a little foot jab in the ankle, delivering her a look that says this conversation isn't over. She just smirks, shakes her head and disappears in her designs with her music on full blast. Marcus gives you a sympathetic shoulder pat before heading towards Josh’s space and while Wrench is waving you back up the stars - his back turned - you snatch a black latex glove off Sitara’s workstation so sneakily, you mentally pat yourself on the back. 

Since you sorta liked the anarchist and his pervy, inappropriate banter, you decide to take it easy on him. 

Agreeing to be merciful doesn’t stop you from watching his ass under the slack of his jeans as he takes the stairs ahead of you - it also doesn’t keep you from pinching his right butt cheek in full view of everyone in the game store either much to Wrench’s utter happiness. 

He’s got a thing for PDA, and sometimes you like humoring him.

The air outside it warm and dry, the perfect day to pretend you’re one of those people that like being outdoors. You don’t really, but the fresh air that breezes down from the park stinks of cut grass and melted popsicles. 

Wrench slows down until your side by side and wraps an arm around your shoulders, rubbing your bare arm with the edge of his calloused thumb and tells you how cute you look today.

"-like a cuddly teddy bear I wouldn't mind having some adult naptime with."

“If you’re trying to butter me up, don’t bother,” you whisper, poking him in the stomach with a smile, “I’m so slippery you could throw me down a gravel road, and I’d hit warp speed.”

“What about if I threw you in the back of the van? Are we talking pinball machine ricochet or…?” Wrench asks, bumping your scalp with a few mask spikes in his romantic display of affection. You hold his stomach in your palm, force him to pause in mid-stride for the second it takes to plant a kiss on the side of his neck and proceed to melt a little when he side-hugs you in return and sighs lovingly.

“So, is that a yes to the van tossing?”

“We’ll see,” you tell him calmly, tugging him by the hoodie slack at his hip until his legs kick back into gear. 

The van is parked out in the middle of the alley, bumped up at an angle like the world's shittiest park job. Wrench throws open the back doors to an adult treasure trove of machine parts from the HAUM factory and a bunch of saran-wrapped cardboard boxes with the sex shop’s red-lips logo stamped on the side.

Well, you decide, Wrench wasn’t kidding about that. At this rate, you both could start selling sex toys out of his garage because there’s no way you’ll ever try - or use - half the stuff he steals/buys.

… especially not the three-pronged ‘actual monster’ dildo. That was fun to laugh over, but once Wrench that in one hand and a bottle of lube in the other, you were quick to say ‘fuck you.’ Course, Wrench being Wrench, that meant he took your insult as an invitation… which you were more than okay with in all honesty. 

After a few minutes of unloading boxes, Marcus appears and gives you one of those looks Sitara had worn earlier.

You’re ready for it when he asks, “What’s eatin’ Sitara?” 

But before you can open your mouth, Wrench drops a bombshell as he unloads a heavy white box filled to the brim with processor parts, “Probably, 'cause you’ve been ‘gallivanting’ around with that mermaid haired chick - you know, the girl with the skinny ass.”

“What?” You and Marcus both jinx each other as Wrench slides the processor loot on top the box labeled ‘flesh-colored.’ You swear you can hear the unmistakable bounce of silicone inside the case as he shoves the dolly underneath and taps his heel, blinking double-carets. 

“Yeah, man,” Wrench makes a gesture like it’s obvious until you and Marcus both blink like a bunch of halfwits and Wrench is forced to explain it with an electric sigh.

“Alright, look… she’s either communing with the moon and the tides and stuff OR!” With arms thrown up in Marcus’ direction he finishes, “or she’s pissed that M here keeps blowing her off.”

“You’ve been blowing her off? - for a girl?” You repeat, arching a brow at a shamed looking Marcus. 

“It’s not like that you guys-“

“Bullshit, Markey Mark wrote her a poem!” Wrench shouts, calling out his best friend with at symbols and more shitty double-carets, “I saw it. Can’t deny it. A fucking poem!”

“... this is like... the ultimate betrayal, man,” Marcus mutters, making a perfect Caesar 'pre-stabbed-to-death' face. Wrench chuckles and smacks his shoulder a few times, causing Marcus to smirk despite himself. 

You’re not sure how you feel about this… and while it’s none of your business, you sometimes feel the urge to take Marcus and Sitara by the back of the head and mash them together screaming ‘now kiss!!!!’ but yeah… none of your business. Still, it doesn’t stop you from subtly kicking Wrench in the shin until he stops laugh so you can send Marcus a hopeful smile. 

“Last time Sitara dragged me to the pawn shop off Sixth and Mission she was eyeballing a pair of signed Crumb coffee books,” you mention.

Out the corner of your gaze, Marcus rolls his eyes up to the sky and nods, giving you a toothy smile, “Thanks, Low. Ah’ owe you one, girl.”

“I didn’t say anything,” you shrug and give him a look outside of Wrench’s laser vision. The demolitions expert has been clicking his exacto knife idly while sitting on the HAUM box but he’s always watching you even when you think he’s not. 

Because Marcus is smart and aware of what Wrench sent you while they were driving the van back (of course Wrench did that while Marcus was witness to it) he snaps his fingers and grabs the dolly handles. Wrench hops off it with question marks that quickly shift to underscores when you tug on his elbow to give Marcus and the boxes some room.

“What’s happening? I missed something, and you two are scheming - is this a sabotage?!” Wrench asks; exclamation marks bouncing up on his display. 

Marcus whistles innocently as he turns the corner. 

With a hand on Wrench’s chest, you reach up and kiss the side of his neck. Stars replace the exclamations and before you know it he’s rubbing your back through your shirt; growling like a Casanova as you pepper your lips along his throat. Doesn’t take much to shift his attention sometimes, you think with a soft smirk. 

“What do we have here?” He plays, pinching your bum through your shorts, “You know all you had to do was say you were eager to get Wrench Wrecked ‘cause this red-blooded hunk of man flesh is always eager to please his shortie.”

“I love you, but shut the fuck up,” you smile and press your finger between a few spikes on his mask, knowing exactly where the plush of his lips are now. You can feel them stretch into a grin through the leather, just as his mask falls into mad-slashes. 

His voice is that low static that makes you wet when he asks, “Are we in a skip the foreplay mood? - cause I could tenderize rubber with this juicy meat stick.“ 

“Mmhmm,” you hum distractedly, checking to make sure the coast is clear before yanking Wrench by his studded lapels. It’s past noon, so everyone is either still at work or catching a fare home… or scoping out other alleys which is convenient for what you have planned and allows for the perfect mix of privacy and exhibitionism that you and Wrench can both enjoy. 

He channels a devious, husky robot as you drag him, nearly stepping over his own feet around the van. He makes a short noise of confusion, question marks vibrating on you before you twist and shove him against the back wall. You're both close enough near the fender that one opening of the alley is blocked by the bulk of the DedSec vehicle. 

“Did you and Marcus do some code wink or something, cause this is hot but,” he sighs when you start unbuttoning his jeans, “I don’t want to scare M when he sees how much bigger Wrench Jr. Jr. is than…”

You kiss his anarchy tattoo with wet lips until he shudders.

“... shit, this is happening,” he groans under the mask, display lightning up with stars as you let your knees hit the hard patch of clean pavement, taking his zipper down with you. 

The little bits of debris eat into the thin skin on your knees caps and yeah… they’re gonna bleed when this is all over, but the pain is pretty mild compared to how aroused you are. Plus, running with Wrench like you have over the past eleven months has toughened you up to scrapes and bruises.

Long story short, your pain tolerance is high. 

As you tug the open hem of his jeans down his thin hips, exposing the red-patterned boxers with the distinct outline of hard dick underneath, Wrench sighs and spares the alley a few distracted looks. While the van is blocking them from street view, there’s nothing stopping someone from seeing a masked punk getting a blowjob from the other end of the alley. 

It’s kind of… exciting…

The open-air reminds you of that first fuck in the sailboat, and the memory of all that adrenaline makes you feel more daring than you usually do.

Through his boxers, you kiss the warm cock trying to strain through; tongue reaching out to poke the protrusion of metal. 

Wrench slaps an arm back on the stained graffiti wall. His incognito hand ripples with tendons as he spreads his fingers out like a fan, bracing himself as a stifled moan drains out from his mask. You look up, tongue soaking spit through his boxers, and watch those stars fall into hearts.

“Fuck me! - If I knew hacking your laptop meant back alley blowjobs-” he begins, sounding breathless but one tug on the elastic band of his boxers brings his bare dick bouncing out, simultaneously shutting him up as your mouth opens in a wet kiss just under the cock piercing.

“... fuck,” he sighs, “fuck-fuck-fuuuuuck.” 

Carefully, Wrench slides his chucks forward across the pavement until his hips are pushed out, and the tip of his cock is nudging your temple. He smells so good, emanating old spice body wash and musky cock, that it makes your mouth waters. You lick him from the soft wrinkled flesh above his balls to the dribbling tip of his dick before covering all that girth in the hot reaches of your mouth; sucking him down.

Wrench chokes.

He whines and groans and throws down curses like they're breaths. But while he’s always so vocal, and it’s eternally hot, you did this with one goal in mind… well, maybe two. Retaliation being a significant factor but the most prominent reason involves the black latex glove and lube in your pocket. For a few more minutes, you enjoy just sucking him off, relishing the way he lifts up the hem of his hoodie so he can watch the full view of your lips stretching around his dick. With the mask on and you doing stuff like this, he’s pretty shameless, and you fucking love it.

You dip down until his cock flares in the back of your throat, hold back an involuntary gag and pull back until strings of spit begin to hang off his length. 

“I-I’ll never ever,” Wrench hisses as you wrap a fist around the base of his dick and start jerking him off against your wet lips, "... never get used to these.”

With a short laugh, you kiss the salty slit as it leaks pre-cum and tug the black glove out your pocket with your other hand. 

Wrench, even lost as he is in your wet attention, makes a curious noise. The sound of him swallowing is almost as loud as the cacophony of cars passing a couple dozen feet away. 

“Woah, hold on,” he hisses, actually sounding nervous. 

You release his cock, watching it sway - wet and swollen - as he starts massaging the wall at his back; finger joint bending. 

Making a real show of putting on the latex glove, you wiggle your thin fingers until Wrench’s display flips from sad slashes to underscores and then big honest hearts. No hiding that, you think, smirking. He releases a submissive breathe, letting his head smack back on the hard wall and tips his hips forward, “Never mind, I so allow it - did you do any research or are you jus-” 

Whatever spiel he was gonna make turns into a thin, static-laced whine as you wrap your lips around the blushing head of dick once more and give him a firm suck. Research he says? - No, actually... you didn’t, but as long as you listen to his body, everything should be alright. It’s just one finger for now, and he stuck that one up your ass without much know-how… or had he?

“Oh shit…” he sighs, pushing his hips out just enough for you to swallow another inch of cock, “that feels super nice.”

While Wrench is distracted you uncap the travel sized bottle of lube from your back pocket and douse the glove until the excess wets over your thighs.

The spongy, smooth texture of his cockhead pulsates and just to hear him gasp, you tongue the metal through the tender skin before releasing him. Lips pressed on the underside of his cock, you yank on his wrinkled jeans one-handed until his mask flashes double zeros. Once his cerebellum catches up with the rest of his brain, Wrench helps you shove the denim and boxers down around his knees. He loses a shoe in the process, but you need his legs spread for this and Wrench doesn’t seem at all worried about getting glass in his foot once you're back to fisting his cock between his naked thighs. 

You kiss his angry looking dick once more before delving your gloved-hand between his inner thighs, slippery latex stroking the seam of his sac on your way to the cleft of his ass. 

“Ready?” You ask, sounding more nervous than he does when he replies with a throaty ‘fuck yeah.’

Should have done that research you're usually so fond of doing but… as Wrench starts threading trembling fingers through the hair over your forehead, you decide that going in blind has its perks. He clenches a little when you stroke up and down the crease of his ass, finding that tight ring of flesh and blush as he stares at you with digital love.

With another soft kiss to his cock and a few firm, slow strokes to get him grunting, you swirl your pointer finger and ease your middle in its place. He’s slippery and maybe a bit too tight, but after a few probing presses, you decide he’s more relaxed when you’re focusing on his dick, so you open your mouth, take him in until metal hits the back of your tongue and… there it goes…

Wrench makes a sound like someone just stabbed him - one of those hammy noises he makes when he pretends you’ve wounded him but there’s no faking it this time. 

For a second you nearly pull away; almost let his dick slip off your lower lip but the heat and pressure trapped around your middle finger pulses and the loudest fucking moan you’ve ever heard echoes off the alleyway walls. He cups the back of your head and tries to urge your lips back around his cock even while he starts to tremble. 

Greedy gus, you think with an open-lipped smile. You open your mouth and let him tug you down his length until he makes another rowdy moan that makes the fine hairs on your skin stand on end.

Holy fuck, he’s gonna attract a fucking audience if he-

“... wait. F’uck, wait! - right there.”

You release his cock, rest your palm on his hip and watch with wide eyes as his dick twitches a full inch towards his stomach. There’s nothing but tightness and heat around your middle finger. You hold the digit in place, looking up his body at the sad slashes and bobbing anarchy symbol.

“Does it hurt?” You ask, a bit worried. While it had burned when he first did it to you, you’re fully aware that there’s a big difference between doing this to a man as opposed to a woman. If he needs a moment, you'll fucking give him one.

Wrench shakes his head just enough that you can stop worrying. He sinks down the wall a few inches, knees bending. His grip in your hair hurts, but it’s as easy to ignore as the throbbing in your knees. You’re way too focused on this to give a shit about a few mild distractions anyhow. That being said, you do give the backside of the alley a quick look to make sure you’re still relatively alone.

“Can you uh,” his mask switches to mismatched zeros as he releases your hair, realizing he might have been gripping it too hard, “whatever you're hitting can you - fuck... I need you to rub it, please...”

And rub it you so fucking do.

It’s hard to know where it is, but the almost linear circles you try to make where he instructed evidently have ‘some’ effect because his cock does that fat twitch again, free-flows precum like a broken sieve and makes Wrench groan so long, and so loud that your insides clench and leak. This is probably one of the hottest things you’ve ever done/witnessed. Even with his mask on, hiding the contortion of his face, it's incredible.

“If-fucking shit… if you stop,” he pants and frantically reaches up to run a hand through the sweaty hair hidden under his hoodie, “just, please don’t stop.”

“I promise I won’t,” you manage to say, surprised and elated that this is the type of reaction you’ve gotten and in broad fucking daylight too. You wonder if this is how Wrench felt when you were on the receiving end and enjoying it.

He nods - shaken and mumbles - mask emoting at symbols. His abdomen curls and with a loud gulp, he sinks down another inch, but you're careful to move with him and no deeper.

Through his inner muscles, there's a little swollen bulge starting to form, and it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to know what it is. You can feel his prostate under the pad of your finger and carefully, you trace the edges of it until his knees start knocking against your arms. Wrench whimpers and immediately lays both palms flat on the wall; fingers spread out until they start turning white. It looks like he doesn’t even need you to touch his cock. The way it bounces and dribbles - the way the swollen head flares visibly, says enough for what a single finger in the right spot can do. 

Still, the thin strings that flow and drip off the underside of all that thick cock are rather mouthwatering, and you can’t help yourself. Keeping your eyes on Wrench's posture and downturned display, you lean in and give him a quick lick - like pulling melted sweetness of a soft serve.

“Low… I think…” he inhales, muscles twitching erratically and from this angle - with your tongue laid up just under his weeping slit - you note the roiling tension in his tattooed abdomen. The ‘E’ and ‘N’ inked over his navel writhe under the light dusting of hair, same as his insides do around your finger and without any other warning but a guttural sound of death, Wrench’s cock throbs and shoots messy, thick jets against the back of your throat.

You gag at first, pinch his hip in your palm to hold him steady and curl your finger hard in shock, but thankfully it doesn’t seem to hurt him. 

“God-fucking!” He growls, head thrown back as his cock bounces all on its own, “uhhhhhh… damnit… goddamnit...”

You lean back, swallowing that initial load of cum as Wrench experiences whatever fuck-awesome orgasm you've given him. Every bob of his cock sends a shot of jizz flying. A couple strings land on the cement over your shoulder, but the rest leaves his cock hanging downward, so the finale ends up all over your chin, throat, and shirt.

“Oh, my god,” he whispers and then louder, half laughing as he shivers, “god-fuck-shhhhit! That was… oh, fuck me. I’ve ASCENDED!”

It’s hard not to laugh, so you snort and giggle as a dollop of cum falls over your chin.

“Glad you’re having a religious moment and all but umm,” you wiggle your finger just a tiny, tiny bit until he’s curling his blunt nails into the wall and staring down at all the cum dripping off you. It’s gonna be hard to explain when you inevitably venture back to the HQ… but that was way more than a dixie cup worth of jizz he let out. With what he got in your mouth and on your chin was enough to be impressive, but the two fat globs on the ground and all the warmth oozing down your neck and staining your shirt is almost scary.

“Well I’ll be damned,” Wrench gasps - left leg shaking - sounding like he just got finger fucked and loved every second of it. 

“Yeah, this is like… so much jizz,” you tell him, rubbing his naked hip as he starts coming down. Wrench stares with hearts in his eyes as you lick your lower lip clean of thin, runny jizz and smirk. 

The sound he makes when you slowly remove your finger is adorable - like a notched whine of ‘no, not yet, please’ that makes you feel wonderfully confident.

He fumbles around at his jeans, and since he’s still shivering and uncoordinated, you help him get a foot in the denim and his jeans and boxers in place around his thighs. The pants don't make it over his hips before he’s skidding down the wall, groaning as his butt lands on the ground. 

“Guess we won’t be doing this again since you hated it so much, huh?” You laugh, a little nervous for some reason but Wrench’s mask blinks happy double-carets before dashing you with the hearts again and your chest is back to feeling warm and fuzzy. 

“This is probably a bad time to tell you they installed a new cTOS camera over there by the dumpster.”

“What?!” You turn, knees opening up on the concrete and lo and behold, right there, is a sparkly new camera, pointed at the two of you. 

You sneer at it, swearing you can see it's eye dialing in on you, “Welp, that’s gonna be on Nudle in a few hours…” 

Wrench cackles like he’s piss-drunk and runs a thumb over your chin, cleaning off a shiny patch of cum. You glare, but lick it up off the calloused pad just see those mad-slashes. 

Fuck the cameras, at this point who gives a shit? - If Wrench doesn’t then you don’t. Maybe in a few hours when you're not cloudy with arousal you’ll feel differently but right now, you push your teeth on his thumbnail and soak up the salty tang of cum. You watch him cast a quick look up at the camera and down the back alley. 

It’s empty still, somehow.

“Get over here,” he demands, half-growling.

Wrench tugs the lip of his mask up over his chin, past his lips and with his thumb hooked in your mouth and his fingers hard around your jaw and temple, Wrench pulls you in for a kiss to end all kisses.

Even though you really wanna bring up that time he told you how his ass was off limits back when he was trying to get in yours, the moment’s too remarkable already to ruin it with your ‘I told you so’s.’ His lips are relentless and hungry, and you’re so turned on it’s hard to think about anything outside of this little semi-clean spot in the alley, with your knees bruised and his ass on the bare concrete. It’s all sorts of hot and messy, and after snapping the black glove off with a twang, you crawl in his lap and let the cum stains set.

Cameras be damned, but he owes you for that video hack earlier.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is gonna get pretty wild in the next bit. I hope everyone and the Anons who sent in their asks are enjoying this so far. If you have the time, please let me know what you thought in the comments below. It's been awhile since I've done more than one-shots.
> 
> Thank you to Darth Fucamus for going on this for me. It means a lot. <3
> 
> Tumblr ----> http://brimbrimbrimbrim.tumblr.com/


	2. Part Two: The Pegging

“Umm… is he okay?”

Sitara points to your newest ass tick, commonly called Wrench as he clings to your waist and starts nuzzling spikes along your butt. After five minutes of this, you don’t even feel it anymore except for a dull throb in your left ass cheek. 

You’ve been carrying on with Sitara like nothing’s awry because Wrench has been pulling this schtick - in some form or another - since you stuck your finger up his ass. He’s like a tree frog… a cyberpunk tree frog that’s gotten a taste for being hand fed little nuggets of awesome in the form of stellar orgasms. In essence, you’ve spoiled him, and there’s no going back from that… not that you’d have done anything differently. Wrench was nothing if not attentive when it came to you, and his sexual proclivities were pretty boundless.

“Yeah, he’ll get bored in a bit. Just uh… just ignore him,” you comment, planting a chuck sole as far to the right as you can reach before dragging Wrench’s full weight behind you all the way to the conference table, laptop in hand. 

Heavy fucker, you think with a grunt. 

He hums on a high note, his mask probably going all goo-goo-eyed because his hands tighten and you have to heave and trudge across the floor as Wrench’s feet drag behind him; squeaking on the smooth concrete. It’d be funny if you weren’t trying to walk with one-hundred and seventy additional pounds of hacker nerd around your hips. 

Sitara makes a face like she smelled something foul, following close beside you, “Do you need some help?” There’s a jive of amusement in her voice as she adds mischievously, “There’s a lot of dumpsters between here and the bridge. No one would miss another masked anarchist with a tiny butt.”

“Oh, no. Nope,” you wince and jerk yourself into a chair as Wrench nuzzles those spikes into your side, “just pretend he’s not even here. Promise me - if you keep giving him attention he won’t ev-””

“Feeeeed meeeee!” Wrench bellows in electrostatic enthusiasm, throwing double-carets up at you as his tatted-up arms squeeze tighter. You and Sitara groan for two entirely different reasons, but past the studs and leather, Wrench chuckles like a Bond villain on helium, knowing he’s being a little shit who's not only getting away with it but also loving it. 

Seriously, you’d die for him and all, but you created a fucking monster when you blew Wrench in that alley. That finger up the ass was like hitting a mind wipe button or something. Maybe tickling his uvula with a banana will cause a system restore? - Or unlock a new level of kinks. Fifty-fifty chances.

“... gimme attention,” he groans and then mutters a string of nonsense against the leather, digging his masked so deep in your waist that you can feel the hot leak of breath through your shirt.

Ugh, your brain sighs while your body reacts eagerly. 

He’s been communicating in dopey, needy mumbles all day, and if you’ve gotten a whole sentence out of him that wasn’t laced in fuck-fog or zombified horniness, then you honestly don’t remember. A great example was right when you woke up this morning. You woke up inside Wrench’s super duper sleeper hold with both of his legs bent around your own. For the life of you, you couldn't wiggle out of it - jerking and begging for mercy only to take the both of you to the floor where the fucker just nuzzled his nose into your tits until you got the hint and dove into some sloppy morning sex with gusto. 

Sitara smirks, sitting on the edge of the table as you shift in your seat, trying to lessen the pinch of Wrench’s fingers around your hips while pulling up the algorithm results you and Josh worked on the other day. 

San Francisco's best free running graffiti artist/hacktivist pokes Wrench in the shoulder with the tip of her boot, but that merely makes him cling to you all the harder; stubborn fingertips bruising your skin. You grumble warmly and pull up the layout of the Frisco Bay Area and the goon/not-a-goon Jordie’s revenge spree. 

"This is what Josh and I came up with," you nod to your screen as Sitara grins in excitement.

You could say something about the dangers involved in trolling a confirmed hitman, but it would fall on deaf ears. Marcus and Sitara can handle themselves in that department, but it still unnerves you just thinking about it. Just listening to Marcus talk about his interactions with the guy was haunting enough.

"Lay it on me, LowRes," Sitara says, crossing her legs like a bond girl.

Against the soft bend between your ribs and hip, Wrench lays a raspberry; fart noises echoing inside his mask until those turn into chuckles. All you feel is the heat of his breath that percolates through leather, but at least he’s entertained for the moment. Shit, even when he's annoying Wrench gets you where you're the weakest - right in the fucking feels.

“Okay,” you start, clicking through location filters until a bunch of red circles in varying color hues fills the map. Sitara leans in as you spin the laptop around and tap the screen with a proud little smile. 

“These big pimples are where he’s been, the colors tell you how long he’s been there and this,” you tap the left arrow on the keyboard; blue hues filling the screen, “are Josh’s predictions for where he’s going to be. I bolstered his numbers with the algorithm I used on Blume’s political trajectory last year, and it’s pretty spot on except for this area in the lower left… there’s a strip club there that may or may not have a running tab on him. Just something to think about.”

“Boooooobsss,” Wrench zombie-mimes with fists squeezing the meat of your hips; exclamation marks flashing on his display. Here you are trying to be helpful and the most significant thing he’s done, aside from gnawing on your legs like a studded pomeranian, was bust a fire hydrant outside the Nudle building the other day. 

You’re pretty sure that had been unintentional despite Marcus trying to back Wrench up for whatever reason. The masked cracker needs to take a break from being a weirdo and eat some food or… pop a downer cause you’re starting to think he got into Josh’s medicine again. If one finger up the ass actually made Wrench’s brain melt, then you're worried what a dildo could do.

“I like - I like,” Sitara grins, panning across the map as the pure mischief on her face grows into promises of utter destruction and chaos, “This could be big, girl. Real big. I’m gonna make some calls, get DedSec on a few choice locations and pop some of these pimples.”

You poke your tongue out in gross humor and send all the data to Sitara’s phone while your human man-tick starts to squirm for attention. 

“You gonna get that thing something to eat?” Sitara mentions off-handed, as she scrolls through her phone, already sending out texts and emails.

“Naw,” you mumble and pat Wrench on the head until mad slashes replace the braindead double x’s, “I think a few zaps of the taser gun will unscramble his brains after last weekend.”

“Please,” the purple-haired goddess comments with a wry smile, “don’t tell me. I’m already up most nights shunning images of what you two do when we’re not around. Like a couple of rabbits.”

Against your hip, Wrench snorts in a mess of static, still accepting your condescending pats with annoyed passion. 

“You’re just jealous I get laid more than you,” he says happily despite mad-slashes blinking from x’s with each fondle of your hand. He’s so cute, even when trying to be an asshole.

“Shows how much you know,” is Sitara’s cryptic reply before she gives you a peace sign, winks and jogs her tight ass up the stairs and out the hackerspace.

Wrench and you both share looks of confusion; raised eyebrows and question marks. You mouth Marcus’ name in a silent inquiry, but he just shrugs, and spirit fingers your sides until the barren HQ fills with your grumbling screams and Wrench’s maniacal laughter.

When you can finally breathe again, Wrench has your wrists pinned above your head in one fist and a flat, rough palm on your bare side. Digital eclipses stare at you in thought before mischievous stars alight his display. 

Oh shit, you think, swallowing a moan of excitement as that nervous energy turns into arousal. Sitara was right, you both were like a couple of fucking rabbits most of the time... although, whether by luck or unfortunate timing, Josh interrupts the moment.

He clears his throat across the room, standing at the bottom of the stairs with a professional looking Nancy Drew besides him. She looks amused and a little embarrassed but doesn’t make eye contact. Josh just rolls his eyes, grabs Nancy's hand and ushers them into his nook without a word.

That was weird, you think, blinking back at Wrench with his inward arrows of frustration.

“You think we should skedaddle?” You ask under your breath. 

“... or we could just do it right here.”

“Ha-ha... fuck you,” you laugh softly, pinching the skin over his knuckles with your manacled hands and knee him over on his back until he’s grumbling something about ‘Josh the Cockblock’ with an erection straining the crotch of his jeans. 

You give his hip a light kick and tell him to ‘vamoose that caboose’ because there’s no way in hell you’ll be responsible for keeping Josh and Nancy from having some time alone. There's also the fact that Wrench has scarred Josh enough as is...

Thankfully, the rest of the day goes by without much fanfare. 

Sitara keeps dropping hints here and there that makes the cogs go haywire in your mind. She’s got some dude… or some chick on the side that she won’t yet divulge but there’s def someone and if it’s Marcus then Wrench probably, most definitely knows. 

After spending all day working on mindless code, being super nosey and rethinking all of Marcus and Sitara's interactions over the past few months, you make it your goal for the evening to try and get some info out of Wrench. Getting him to talk usually means bribery, and you were going to do it through food until you note the freshly empty paper tray of cheesy fries on his Wrench Bench. 

No food, so strategy number-one was out of the question. 

You land on sex, and after a little perimeter check to make sure the coast was clear, you sneak up behind Wrench and reach around to finger the button over his jeans; an arm wrapped around his stomach. He reacts immediately, going from soft to rock solid after ten seconds of dirty whispering and a few squeezes of denim-clad cock.

"... bathroom," you whisper and nearly rub your hands together in villainous glory as he groans, turns on his heel and follows you like a dog on a leash.

While you're plan should have been foolproof, Wrench doesn't divulge a word. Even after edging him against the bathroom sink for the past twenty minutes - sucking him down until his balls start to tighten, only to cinched your fist around his base and wait until he stops mewling - Wrench remains tight-lipped. 

Well… as in 'not betraying his best friends trust' sorta tight-lipped.

It’s admirable, but that doesn’t stop you from toying with him until the head of his cock is so swollen that the dick piercing barely moves through his spit-soaked flesh no matter how much you tongue it. 

“Alright… fine," you tell him, "mercy time," which makes Wrench release a whoosh of breath and a loud guttural noise as your mouth opens around his cock again. He's taken enough torture, and this was a great idea that didn't precisely pan out like you thought, but it was always fun blowing him.

With two handfuls of his ass, you jerk him forward, open your throat and swallow around his fat cockhead.

Wrench nearly gurgles but holds a breath and bears down the moment you press a middle finger against the tight ring of flesh between his cheeks. Just some light teasing and nothing more, even if he's bucking his hips in tiny, eager motions like he wants it inside him. You rub and caress his backside while bobbing your head over his beefy cock with lush sucks until Wrench is choking on his own spit and cumming down your throat. 

He might have won the battle, but 'yadda yadda yadda,' you’ll win the war and all that. One day you'll find out what the deal is between Sitara and Marcus on your own. Sherlock Holmes the fuck out of this situation and then you can gloat... or just keep the findings to yourself. Probably the latter.

Two more days pass by until Josh asks you to install a VPN outside the ProviBlue bank - the first step in a plan to get the FBI looking at a specific corrupt banker with just enough knowledge about hacking to be dangerous but not enough to save him from DedSec. Give the douche a month or two, and he'd have fucked himself over, but none of you wanted to wait that long. 

'Just a little push and the feds will be all over him,' Josh said.

It was an easy thing, just strolling through a back alley and hauling yourself up over a few AC units to get at the emergency fire escape, then Bingo. It almost brought you back to your DedSec initiation at the SFPD, back when Wrench had just been a hot looking punk in the corner of your eye.

Of course, nothing was ever so simple as install and skedaddle. 

After establishing the device between two satellite dishes, you turn around, screech and scramble backward. 

Wrench is standing there in typical wide-legged glory, swinging a pair of handcuffs on two fingers, glaring mad slashes at you as you fumble with your laptop. The hour-old text he sent you about how he was gonna pork you on a rooftop today was ignored for Sitara’s more critical reminder about changing the proxy before something distracted you… you forget the details, but he's here now. 

Wrench twirls the cuffs, snatches them into a fist and starts walking towards you, making ‘tsking’ sounds behind the mask. 

Mental snapshot, you think as he closes in on you.

That evening, as the sun sets, you find yourself bent over an alcove by the rooftop access building, Wrench's cock jackhammering you with a finger in your ass, underwear and jeans crumpled around your ankles. 

You're out of breath from the short chase, now handcuffed while being happily, sloppily fucked from behind. 

Wrench leans in and says something about 'criminals like you needing a STIFF dose of justice' as he steps on your wrinkled jeans and pulls your left leg out and up, shoving your knee on the warm electrical unit jutting from the sidewall. His angle changes, pace going slow and smooth and then starts pounding his hips hard and fast up between your spread thighs. He fucks you until your knees turn to jelly - until he has to scoop you up under the waist so he can keep hammering you on limp legs. 

You cum without any clitoral stimulation to speak of, feeling swollen and wet and dripping; tears in your eyes.

Wrench’s hard polymer display hits your shoulder through the green army jacket as he empties inside you - the contractions of your insides too much for him to hold out anymore. Feeling so full and sloppy like this, while sounding gross, is incredible and never ever gets old.

Still buried to the hilt inside your cunt - a finger hooked in your ass - he admits throatily. “I wanna,” a heavy breath, “play switcheroo next time. What'da'ya say? You down?”

“Wha-what?“ you start to ask in a heady daze, too many endorphins crashing through you like hurricane waves, “Switch what around?”

“That black glove magic trick you did in the alley?” He says through leather and spikes stuffed up against the back of your head, “Never cum so fucking hard in my whole life… wanna take that shit to level ninety-nine. Care to explore my nether reaches??”

“You freaky fucker,” you managed with a husky laugh, still partially out of breath and blinking back a haze of exhaustion. Nothing like a surprise fuck to take the wind out of a person...

After Wrench pulls his finger out of your ass and eases his half-flaccid cock from your cunt, you twist around and let him help you back into your underwear and jeans. It's damp and slippery, but that's fine. You smile and palm the edge as he lifts you up on the ledge with the utmost care. He's always very gentle after doing anything to your rear end, but honestly the slight ache it leaves behind is part of the enjoyment. The raw feeling pounds pleasantly against the concrete alcove. 

“Alright,” you grin and let him sweep some messy hair out of your face while twin hearts stare at you, “let’s make you go cross-eyed, Mr. Surprise Fuck Man... although I don't think I wanna make you cry like crew cut dude did.”

“Pfff, those were tears of joy, my sugar muffin," he says with the utmost confidence. "How about we make it a date? Hmm? - say Tuesday night when those weenies in Silicon Valley are gonna be put through Sitara’s initiation circle jerk thing?”

Tuesday night nothing was going on - not that you guys ever had a tight schedule, to be honest. 

"Yeah, okay," you nod and blush as Wrench starts wiping his finger off on an oil-stained rag from his back pocket. It wouldn't hurt to start keeping some wet wipes around if Wrench is gonna be all ‘SURPRISE butt stuff’ for the foreseeable future. Even straight up sex with him opened the floodgates, you think to yourself as cum starts leaking forth.

With a gratified sigh, you lean back and enjoy the light burn inside as he continues talking excitedly. 

“Which! - Gives us plenty of time to make the proper ‘arrangements’ also… I dunno if I wanna start making hardcore animal noises with that one chick there.”

“Snickerdoodle,” you correct, “and I’m pretty sure she’s heard what you sound like when you’re getting head. You’re super noisy FYI.”

“Stop being such a master at the craft then. Besides, you think I’m noisy now. Wait until I’m taking it up the poo-“

You push a finger against the leather mask, between several spikes and hear his voice smoosh before a thin giggle leaks out. If you’re gonna do this, Wrench has to tone down the bathroom humor until you’ve at least got the strap on secured and his body suitably ready. Also, lube.

Lots and lots of lube.

Tuesday comes like someone's hit the gas on hyperdrive. Warp fucking speed kinda thing... and before you’ve fully realized what’s about to happen, Wrench is giggling to himself in the shower while you sit on the sink with a white cup of coffee and your laptop balancing on your thighs. 

The house, as Wrench claimed, is deserted except for the lingering smell of tacos and shitty weed.

You’ve elected to share a joint of the good stuff with him - the same grape-soda weed he stole over six months back because, for some reason, you’re more nervous about this than he is. Wrench has been nothing but double-caret grins and maniacal chuckles all day, and the weed has only made him even more carefree and animated. 

Also, he’s been humming…

He’s humming now and just way too peachy considering he’s about to get a dildo up his ass. 

The both of you had gone through the boxes stuffed under your bed, searching for something that'd work and settled on a short, slim dildo meant for anal stuff which just so happened to fit in the female end of the strap-on harness. Next time, you'll want something less abrasive and more... comfy to wear, but it works, and Wrench decides he could take four inches with enough prep work.

You swing your legs, banging your bare heels on the sink cabinet as Wrench starts singing a Public Enemy song. 

With a few finger strokes, you scroll through some more last minute reading on how to correctly peg a dude. May whatever caused the Big Bang be blessed because there’s two-million results on what to do and more importantly, what not to do when pegging your guy for the first time. 

“... interesting,” you mutter to yourself as an instructional gif starts playing the sequence of penetration. You take a sip of coffee and scroll further down past some ads for KY jelly until there's a video interview with a GQ lookin' dude. Your headphones are in the bedroom, so you scroll further down and check out the tips section with keen eyes. 

Wrench stops ruining the lyrics to 'Fight the Power' and starts humming something that sounds like The Pink Panther opening theme. You smile to yourself, falling ever more in love with the idiot as you mentally check off items from the list on your screen. 

“Soo,” you speak up over the rushing water of the shower, “do you want me to do the ‘d-word thing’ or are you-“

“Trust me, my magical unicorn. I - The Masked Crusader of bedlam and depravity! - have already fully prepped myself for this evening's… scandalous activities,” he ends on a scary note like some Bela Lugosi wannabe, but it’s fetching, and you find yourself holding in laughter despite yourself. 

“Okay so, you’re ready to get pegged then.” It wasn’t a question. He was. 

“Should we go over our safe word in case things get too hot and heavy for the Masked Crusader?”

“Porcupine,” Wrench says with what sounds like a mouthful of water. 

“Porcupine,” you repeat above the shower noise, "gotcha. 

As Wrench has his shower-fun-time, you busy yourself with skimming the same wall of text for the third consecutive time. He groans, possibly taking the edge off with a pre-fuck orgasm. It’s tempting to set the laptop aside and join him, but you can’t pull yourself away from the mass amount of material at your fingertips. 

One image of a side-position makes your insides clench - it's very similar to the one Wrench had you in the first time you'd done anal.

Fuck... you're getting overly excited now...

Slow and steady, you remind yourself and try to calm your racing heart. With a deep breath, you close your laptop and focus on keeping yourself together. 

It’s just as thrilling as it is nerve-wracking and there’s a part of you that’s terrified you’re gonna hurt him… or he’s gonna hurt himself because Wrench is nothing if not DTF twenty-four seven but also seems to lack that part of the brain that lets a person know when something could possibly kill/maim them terribly. 

You’re lost in thought when a hot geyser of shower water gets spit into the side of your face, leaving you startled and wet. Wrench’s dribbling, grinning face stares at your through the glitter shower curtain; daring you to do something about the spit-water facial.

“Oh, you’re so fucked,” you say mid-way off the sink. 

A very naked and very erect Wrench rips the shower curtain open, ready for you like a pro wrestler; bleached hair plastered over his forehead and hooked nose dripping water. 

He's so toasted.

Fifteen minutes later, sporting some elbow bruises from a water-wet and eager to mock-fight-Wrench, you find yourself pushing him down into the mattress, leaving hot and hungry kisses down his water-soft skin. He sighs, grabbing your ass through wet pajama shorts courtesy of the shower altercation, and arches back as you brush your teeth over his nipple.

The sound he makes is pornographic, so you do it again and slice your tongue back and forth over it until he's massaging the fat in his hands and breathing heavily.

Such a receptive fucker, you think before biting the tattooed skin over his ribs and nip further down; little kisses and rakes of teeth. He tastes like the heavy metals in the shower water and the beginnings of something salty. 

“Low,” Wrench groans as your mouth travels down his navel, dipping in his belly button for a second of teasing, growing closer to the standing cock between his thighs, “... as much as I love your mouth hugs I’m-“

His rebuttal dies as soon as you suck the head of his cock into your mouth, teasing the piercing naughtily with the flat of your tongue. That night at the dune races has been somewhat fueling your actions tonight. A part of you wants to see him suffer just a little, tiny bit.

“... fuck! - that is sweeeet,” he sings in an exhale; shoulders shoving back into the bed and hips lifting. 

With a wet pop, you release his cock, watching it slap back over his stomach and lick your lower lip before admitting, “This might actually be bringing out some buried kinks... like, I’m all for you throwing me around and cock hammering me until near-death… but…”

Wrench blinks - chin on his sternum - and looks down at you with red in his cheeks. His gaze is lopsided and hooded. 

“I wanna fuck you so hard right now,” you nearly snarl it; sounding greedy and messy and not like yourself but Wrench just swallows and nods with eager, wide eyes; the wine-stained skin on his brow pulling in a way that makes you wanna kiss it.

“Yeah," he exhales, "I am… so ready to get fucked.” 

And because he sounds so hot admitting to such a thing, you pepper his dick with several more kisses and grab the lube off the bedside table. His blue eyes follow the bottle of water-based lubricant hotly.

Something shifts in his eyes and he shoots up, elbows the bedside table until an old can of grape soda falls to the floor. Neither of you cares about soda stains - both too busy getting the rest of your shower-damp clothes off as fast as fucking possible. You kick out of your shorts, slip across his spread thighs and uncap the lube one-handed. Wrench fumbles with the strap-on, tugging you so hard as he cinches the waist buckle that you nearly fall over.

"Fuck," you breath and bump your nose to the crown of his damp scalp as his hands skim up your back, immediately unclasping your bra. Everything's happening so fast. Your heart is racing, and his bare thigh lifts to shove against your naked cunt and... your fist clenches at the pleasure spike.

A squirt of lube like an imitation jet of cum lands over his stomach, but he couldn’t give two shits about the mess and just inhales at the feeling; bracing as if you're gonna squeeze another line on him. Honestly, you don’t care about a mess either because it’s about to get way messier...

It was time for another mattress anyway.

Wrench leans up as soon as your bra slides off the slope of your breasts and sucks a nipple into his mouth; hungry and violent enough that the pleasure aches all the way down to your core. You gasp, moan and start dragging your folds over his thigh, holding him by the roots of his hair while he laves his tongue around the stiff peak of your breast. To think there'd been a time where he was awkward with his mouth; nervous and hesitant. It's funny now... almost, mainly it’s hot because he slurps at your tits until the weight of one bounces; nipple finally slipping out of his mouth.

He goes in for another hard nipple suck-fest, ready to attack it with equal passion but you shove him back; a palm over his chest. Another accidental dribble of lube paints his inked torso like fat sticky raindrops, and since he's already slippery, you pour a long line over his blushing cock and grin as he groans.

"... wanna sit on it for a little bit?" He asks, sounding strained; half begging.

It's too tempting to say no, and the dildo is still resting on the sheets a foot away from your knee, and you're aching inside and... fuck yess...

"Ye-yeah," you sigh, shifting forward until Wrench pulls you into his lap with two hands around the swell of your hips - thumbs under the harness - and helps angle you over his cock. He goes in so fucking smoothly thanks to the excess lube that you hunch over and moan so loud a blush fills your cheeks.

"So slippery," Wrench groans, rocking you back and forth. Slow and steady.

The squishy sound of lube and shifting cock and tight muscles only heats your face up more but the way his thumbs turn you forward and down - clit dragging over the scratch of pubic hair - makes you gasp and lean over. Your palm skids across his chest, past his shoulder and lands in the sheets beside his neck. 

Wrench doesn't laugh or playoff your stuttering or your blazing cheeks - he doesn't say something silly nor does he remind you how sex can be uncoordinated and full of mistakes and still awesome. Instead of what he'd usually do, Wrench stares into your eyes like there's a universal answer hidden in them and holds your hips steady so he can start pounding his cock up inside you. It starts off slow and deep and then, seconds in, your breasts are bouncing. The room becomes a cavern of skin slapping sounds, punctuated by high moans. 

Your eyes narrow in bliss, feeling your blood boiling as it pumps up from your cunt... as if he's shooting you full of lava-pleasure. 

Wrench fucks you until tears well up in your eyes and then without warning bottoms out, shoving and dragging you inside the hollow of his hips; mashing. The pressure swells. Your clit burns with friction and with your nose buried in the sweaty, shower-wet bangs over his forehead, you cum; shaking like you've been tased.

As soon as you've finished, Wrench lifts you off his cock, lets it bob across his stomach and rests you on his balls; gasping. 

"Fuck, did you really cum that hard?" he asks, sucking in air, "... felt like you were trying to squeeze my dick off!"

"Mmmm..." is all you can manage before gathering yourself, straightening your spine. Wrench looks chuffed and more than very horny as you shake the lube bottle that's half-full now. A big dark spot has formed near his ribs where you'd squeezed the bottle in the throes of orgasm.

"Pinch me," you ask.

Wrench slaps your ass so hard you jolt and screech. It works better than a pinch though. He does it again for good measure, and in retaliation, you shove him by hip and shoulder until he's rolled on his side and breathing raggedly in preparation.

Another generous river of lube gets release down the crack of his ass and because you like the 'startled' sound he makes, give him a squirt between the cheeks.

By the time you’ve got Wrench positioned and an arm under his side - fist stroking his cock - he's already begged you to fuck him twice. With one finger swirling the ring of tight muscles, you tell him softly, "Just trust me, okay?"

"Always," he manages; swallowing audibly. 

You kiss the back of his shoulder as he breathes noisily. The anarchist sounds like he’s already getting pounded and it’s so hot you can sense your heart banging against your sternum... he can probably feel it against his spine too.

“Maybe you should have taken AntMan up on that valium,” he reminds you; throat clicking as he swallows. Suddenly Wrench exhales hard, relaxes and your pointer finger slides smoothly inside. Hot and tight... 

“Uh’gg-” he grunts, “... fuuuuh’k me...”

“Workin’ on it,” you reply, twisting your wrist until you can just make out the swell of his prostate and begin a loving, precise massage until the bundle of nerves is firm, and Wrench is sweating and trembling.

“Wait... s-stop!” He sputters and you stop; clutching his cock tight and finger stilling. For a second you feel your heart leap into your chest, terrified you’ve done something wrong, and then you can feel it… his cock surging. 

Please don’t cum, you think. You don’t want it to be over already...

Wrench goes rigid; frozen in place.

He’s staving off from cumming, but it must have been oh so fucking close because there’s not a single sound except his steady breathing and the almost mute click of the ceiling fan. After a minute, he sinks against your forearm, making your fist cinch around his steely cock all the tighter - making him groan and reach up to grab the pillow under his head.

“Okie-dokie… for future reference,” he says unsteadily, “that is the fucking spot right there.”

You chuckle in a mix of relief and amusement, “Happily noted. You think you’re ready for another finger?”

He’s ready, something about that specific pattern of rubbing and stroking has opened him up, and Wrench'll take another finger if he’s mentally set for it. Always better ask first, though. He was patient with you when you both were trying out anal for the first time - except for that… first time - and you wanna continue with taking things slow if need be.

Wrench nods, “... yeah, give it to me, cherry pie.”

Cherry pie. Pickle, or Babycakes. No matter the nickname, you give it to him, and he jerks at first, but it doesn’t take more than a little wiggling and periodic attention to the swollen bulge inside for him to start rocking back into your hand. Just like that, he's stuffed with two fingers and loving it. 

Wrench’s cock twitches and leaks and every so often you give it a short stroke from base to mid-length; squeezing and tugging until he’s cursing the great spaghetti monster in the sky.

You smirk and lay a kiss where his close-shaved hairline meets bare skin, working your fingers inside him with an arm wedged under his waist; thumb rubbing smooth strokes down that knot under his cockhead, sometimes pulling at the piercing just to hear him gasp. 

“I bet you’re hotter on the inside than I am,” you tell him with wet lips on the back of his neck.

He hisses a laugh and works his ass down with your thrusting fingers, “Nothin’ can be hotter than you… even this… ho-holy-shit…” he bows his head, “holy fuck…”

Wrench’s back tenses, rolling up against your breasts, but over the slope of his bicep, you can see the way his hand fists the edge of the bed - the way the tendons and veins bulge up on the back of his knuckles. Still lovin’ it, you smile.

“Fuck. I’m gonna blow,” he bites out; heels digging into the mattress and body going rigid like a bolts running through him. You release his cock and lay the lubed up palm against his taut stomach as your fingers rest within him once again. 

Greedy and panting, he pushes back, fucking himself on your fingers like he’s not gonna play this game anymore but you ‘tisk’ him softly - same cadence he had on the rooftops last week -and swing a leg over his thigh, trapping his ass against your hand and lower abdomen. You dig your nails in below his navel until he whimpers and goes still. 

“Fucking hell…” Wrench pants, burying his face in his hands; bleached strands of hair sticking out in one shaking fist, “... is this payback?!”

"Shhh," you whisper.

Wrench makes a gulping sound and rips a hand off his face to reach down and grab his cock - jerk himself off - but you beat him to it. You squeeze his dick until the pulse of blood filters into your grip and lean your chin over his shoulder. 

“Do it-“ you dare him, feeling the way his back expands as he inhales hard, obviously way into the sudden change in your voice, “... go on, fuck yourself and see what happens.”

“... well, damn…” he laughs breathless and hoarse, “keep that dommy shit up, and I’ll definitely be cumming like a broken fire hose.”

Cute words, but he sounds brainless and horned up like he’s never seemed before. 

“Wanna grab that cock ring in the drawer?” You ask; fingers beginning to rub that thick knot inside him again… just enough to make him moan. The bundle of nerve endings is still getting more pronounced even if you’ve been ignoring it more and more for gradually opening him up. 

Wrench exhales like someone slow motion socked him in the gut and nods shakily, “Yesss… I'll noose it. Not gonna last long otherwise.”

With a shaking, tattooed arm, Wrench hits the bedside table with his knuckles, knocks over at least two empty beer bottles before hooking his fingers in the handle and getting the damn drawer open. Sounds of paraphernalia rattle around as you finger him gently, rotating between full circles on his prostate and smooth scissoring motions; keeping a solid grip on the base of his fat cock all the while. It’s sweaty work, but you feel lucky that Wrench is the kinda guy that is down for this because... it's honestly amazing.

Wrench perspires and shakes, and something in your wrist is starting to pinch, but it’s all gonna be worth it when he’s melted into the mattress. You're gonna lean over him and watch the whole thing unfold. Just thinking about Wrench wearing that same dopey look he’s gotten from you so many times is exhilarating.

“Got it!” Wrench exclaims, raising the soft rubber cock ring like an excavated gold coin - and with a helpful hand under his balls - you both get it cinched under and around the main vein.

A great whoosh of breath acts as the starting pistol because he grabs the sheets, bears down on your fingers and starts fucking himself with short jerking motions. The articles you read said to go with his pace, but the rhythm he sets is still more than you'd have done yourself. Reckless, you think, but move with his body anyway. 

“Ready for a third?” You ask, sounding like you’re the one with two fingers up your ass. 

Wrench whines and answers with another greedy bout of backward thrusts until you slip your pointer finger along the crease of his ass, coaxing another digit inside. He tenses and makes a ‘haaaaaa’ sound of tight pleasure. Before you can breathe again, you're fucking him with three fingers and churning your loose fist along the first few inches of dick - the cock ring making him swollen and tender but nowhere close to busting. 

Whoever invented the cock ring deserved all the blowjobs and maybe the Nobel Prize in Fuckology because now you can rain hellfire - i.e., a strap-on - on Wrench and be relatively safe in the knowledge that he’ll be about as miserable and thankful as you were the night of the dunes party. 

“Payback,” you whisper darkly against his hairline, giving him a bite when he sounds like he’s about to say something and then release his cock to elbow him over on his stomach; still stretching him open with tender purpose. He goes down flat without a fight, bending a knee up and taking wrinkles of sheets with him. 

If you only had a camera, because this has got the be the hottest thing you’ve ever done in your whole life... which at this point actually says quite a bit.

The muscles around Wrench’s spine bunch and tense as he moves back into your fingers. His forehead is shoved down between two pillows, and one hand is grabbing the shelving headboard where a Tim Burton snow globe is raining down fake snow with every sharp movement of the bed. 

“How-” you pause to catch your breath, bracing a palm beside him on the bed, “how does it feel? You think you’re ready for it?” 

Please, you think. Please be ready. You wanna fuck Wrench so bad right now.

You’d have never thought the idea of fucking your boyfriend up the ass would turn you on so much, but Wrench’s enthusiasm is infectious. Because he wants it, you’ve allowed yourself to think/fantasize about it to the point where - now that it’s about to happen - you really… really don’t wanna wait another fucking second. 

Against the mattress, Wrench’s muffled, wet response of ‘y-yeah… fuck me’ makes a sharp spike of pleasure twang up your stomach. 

Gently, with pressure on his prostate, you slide your fingers from his him, listening to the hitch of his breath and the way his back muscles tense. You grab the four-inch dildo with the pink, almost flesh-like silicone texture and secure it to the base over your mound. The pressure of it shouldn’t really feel as good as it does, but maybe it’s more psychological than physical. 

Right now, you’re kinda standing in Wrench’s metaphorical shoes; hard dick at the ready, staring down at someone that’s super ready to get fucked. The role reversal is hitting a kink you didn’t know you had… but then again, Wrench has been a powerhouse of new kinks so you shouldn’t be all that surprised. 

You douse the pink silicone cock in lube and start fisting it until it's glossy and ready to fit through a peephole. 

“Ya know, I used to rub Wrench Jr. Junior raw thinking about sticking-“ he hisses as you dribble more lube down his adorable ass, watching the muscles clench a little in surprise, “-but… uh, never mind...”

“No,” you coo, digging your palms over the top of his ass and sliding down on a swath of slick into his lower back, “... tell me. You were saying something about sticking what where?”

You grin and bend a knee over the side of his outer thigh leaning your hips in until the tip of the pink dick is denting in one butt cheek. There are no nerves in the dildo, so it shouldn't be doing physical things to you, but you clench all the same as you slide it between his ass; spreading his cheeks as your thumbs swirl over his shiny skin.

“... uh, w’uht?” He asks, sounding a little delirious and brain dead. 

It’s hot - so hot that you thrust forward through the cleft of his ass a little faster, lubing up the silicone cock further until it’s shining and messy and Wrench is white knuckling the bed frame and fisting your pillow; preparing himself for what’s to come. 

The dildo isn’t much thicker than your three fingers and less than half the size of his own cock, but it’s still exciting, and Wrench pants densely when you ease back and glide two fingers down against the ring of nerves to tease him open a bit more. When you finally nudge him with the head of the pink cock, Wrench says something to himself that sounds eerily like ‘you got this.' It makes you smile and press into him slowly; carefully. 

The initial stretch of the head takes a long time, and this is where you’re lacking. There’s no feeling in your pink dick - no sensation to gauge how tight he is so you press your palms down on his lower back and let gravity do the rest.

One inch goes in - two inches follows slowly after. You pause and apply another squeeze of lube and watch as the other two inches gradually disappear inside Wrench's ass. 

“Shiiiiiiiiit,” he whines as your hips finally make contact with his backside; strap-on nestled entirely within. You think back to the last time Wrench fucked you up the ass and blush, unable to stop comparing that to now and how much Wrench is shivering under you even though it’s only four inches. 

“Only four-inches,” you whisper, repeating your thoughts aloud as Wrench deflates into the mattress, taking your body weight with him. The silicone cock sinks just that little bit deeper, and he rips the pillowcase wide open.

"Holy shit," you gasp, chuckling motionlessly as Wrench hisses and fists the bare pillow inside instead. 

“That. Is. Deep," Wrench punctuates with a moan. 

"... before you start jackhammering me, I gotta let you know,” he takes a breath, readjusts his grip on the bed frame - knocking the snow globe askew - and grunts, “... if this kills me, there’s a letter for you in my tool chest, under the Commodore Amiga manual…”

"So melodramatic," you tell him evenly.

He groans, “Also, adjust my corpse in a flattering pose - something badass without Pinkie up my ass.”

“Seriously?- It’s got a name now?”

“Of course,” he says with a huff; back muscles starting to relax and the tendons in his forearms leveling. He’s relaxing - playing off the situation with sarcasm. When you finally grab him by the meat of his ass and pull out an inch, he falters and follows you back. 

One push sends his hips into the bed and the strap on out another inch. The sound he makes sends another thrill between your legs. Another inch and then a slow press back inside that gets another whine out of his throat. 

His skin is hot and sweaty, and a fresh sheen of perspiration break out over him as you work your hips carefully against him. The lube all over him is going to be a problem at some point, but right now it's working as an excellent massage oil to soothe his tight muscles and help him relax that little bit more. 

It’s slow going - it’s hell on your thighs and back. How he does this so naturally you’ll never know, but even if you’re sweaty too and your muscles burn, there’s no stopping now because Wrench is bracing against every thrust and he wants it harder.

“...can-can…” his forehead slides down the pillow, and his shoulders bunches up as your hips finally meet his ass again, “FUCK!-fuck… go harder. Give it to me.”

You bite your lip, wondering if he can actually handle harder right now and then Wrench takes control of the situation by moving himself against the strap-on; fucking himself while your brain catches up to what’s happening.

Let him set the pace, you remind yourself.

“Greedy anarchist,” you say in disbelief before shoving Wrench down by the middle of his spine and grab his hip like he’s done to you many times. With a silent wish that this isn’t a super dumb idea, you take a breath and grab him hard, slapping your hips into his ass at the same semi-rough pace he'd set himself.

"Yeah," he grunts.

"Yes," he moans, "fuck! - meeeee..."

Wrench’s body jerks lightly over the mattress with each thrust. Every motion digging some muffled 'yes' or 'fuck' or moan out of him.

He’s the mess you wanted him to be - a mess of grunts, and groans and long low moans; curses and mindless pillow talk. 

Even though you can’t see it, you know the sheets underneath him are dragging on his cock, and the friction of each buck and thrust is ruining him. Double trouble, you think as sweat gathers around the heel of your hand. He’s slick and so tight that for a second you almost forget the pink cock isn't actually yours. 

Lube and sweat mix and suddenly he’s half on his knees, fisting his own hair, trying to meet your thrusts - trying to get you to fuck him a little harder... a little deeper... 

Wrench makes a sudden lurch, falling to one elbow as his grip on the bed frame goes snow-white. You hug him under the stomach, unable to get a good grip anywhere else and feel your nipples dragging along his damp back with the motions. Everything is so slippery - so fucking slick.

"You're so hot," you breathe over him; thighs throbbing. 

“-something! Oh’oh fuck,” he growls, sounding slightly panicked but you’ve heard him on the cusp of an orgasm too many times to mistake it for anything else than what it is - pure bliss.

Suddenly your burning muscles don’t matter. Everything is alive with boundless energy, and you dish it all out on Wrench, who’s lost his grip on the wooden shelf and has his hand stuffed underneath his hips. Something snaps - the cock ring. 

Wrench's shoulder starts rotating, his elbow bending; furiously jerking himself off as you fuck him tirelessly up the ass.

He cums on a wave of broken moans that hitch between breaths. If you didn’t know any better, you'd think he was sobbing, but if he is, then it's the kind of sobbing you've done before. That same sobbing where it's so good it's almost too much to bear. 

Wrench lets out a final moan that sounds like someone’s slowed down his vocal cords - just one endless exhale of pleasure and the faint sound of cum squirting into a massive puddle of more cum. 

The sight of his back bundled up in tense muscles - scattered with his black-ink tattoos - is the hottest shit you’ve ever seen. If he loved this as much as you think he has then fingers crossed he wants a good pegging once or twice a month. 

You could get used to having him bent over like this.

“Sooo,” you sing-song as his elbow finally stops working, and his muscles begin to uncoil, “have I sufficiently fucked you up?”

“Like a meat-man… or meat-woman. Am I talking right now?” Wrench groans - noise muffling as he body flops into the bed, arms laid out across the mattress. The soft squelch of cum is pretty sexy too... although the bed is ruined. 

You’re still inside him as he sinks further into the bed, and you follow him until his firm butt is plastered to your hips. 

With a bite to your tongue to stop from saying something incredibly Wrench-like, you ease Pinkie out of him. He grimaces - fingers curling in the sheets. 

Bracing for impact, you think ruefully as the pink, bulging head slowly slips out of him. 

“Gawwwd damn... do I get piggyback rides after this? - Cause I am fucked immobile. How are you 'spose to live??”

“Like, how do I walk afterward?” 

“Among other things…” he mumbles to himself as you start unbuckling the strap on. Every clink of metal makes his butt cheeks clench a little. It’s super cute. The dildo and the ‘harness’ gets thrown to the floor for future Wrench to deal with as your thigh muscles quiver on your way down to the bed beside him. The cold lube stain is gross, but you don't care right now. 

“I dunno," you inhale, "I’m more curious how ‘you’ walk after this. There’s a group of muscles I just used for the first time, and they killlll...”

Wrench turns his head over on the pillow - face blotchy red and eyes lashes gummy - smirking with the hint of teeth, “I guess when you’re the Pussy Master-“

“Destroyer,” you correct.

“-like myself, you make it look easy-peasy. Perhaps a full body massage is in order… heavy focus on that ass and those thighs?”

“Heavy emphasis on your ass and thighs. I think you’re already bruising, dude. Sorry about that...”

Wrench shrugs, winces and rolls over. The sheets stick to his stomach where the cum has started to dry, and you chuckle, tugging them off the goopy mess. Holding in a lungful of verbal discomfort, Wrench bends a knee up and props himself in one of those dashing positions before ruffling his own sweaty hair. “Sooooo-”

“Shower then couch?” You ask before he can finish.

“And maybe some light rimming? Gotta kiss a boo-boo to make it heal faster.”

He gets a pillow thrown in his face, that sends him sliding back out of bed to the floor with an ankle hooked over your own, so you end up falling into the bottomless pit of clutter with him. The fact that he manages to get you on your back in a loose hug-hold reassures you that despite his efforts to guilt you into some literal ass-kissing, he’s fine, just milkin’ it as usual. 

One kiss on your nose and another to your lips and it’s like normal - normal with a hint of ‘you pegged the fuck out of Wrench’ so even better than usual.

"You know what this means," Wrench says against your face, "it's time to take our relationship to... THE NEXT LEVEL!"

Fucking shit...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally got this up and posted! Hope you all enjoy some legit Wrench pegging. If you have the time, please drop me and comment and let me know what did or didn't work. <3
> 
> Thank you to Darth Fucamus for skimming this bad boy over for any major issues. All typos are my own. I really do try to catch them all XD
> 
> Tumblr ----> http://brimbrimbrimbrim.tumblr.com/

**Author's Note:**

> [PILLOWFORT](https://www.pillowfort.io/brimbrimbrimbrim)   
>  [CURIOUS Cat (for asks)](https://curiouscat.me/brimbrimbrimbrim)   
>  [TWITTER](https://twitter.com/LydiaBrim)   
>  [INSTAGRAM](https://www.instagram.com/brim_brim_brim_brim/)


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